


Stuff Goes

by bogglehead



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: A Literal Puppy, Alternate Universe - Crack, Am I misusing the tags? I meant to say:, Childhood Friends, Crack, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Kwon Hyunbin is a puppy, M/M, Multi, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tsunderes, don't worry; the ships will sail, he can and will poop on the carpet, hello darkness my old friend, tags are too much power for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogglehead/pseuds/bogglehead
Summary: The awkward slice of life anime that Produce 101 never was. Featuring all my eliminated faves too, because why not.- - - - - - - - - - -"So this kid just shows up," is how Kim Jaehwan begins the story, staring fondly at a photo on the wall.If you stop by the little karaoke bar with the hydrangea bushes, you might meet a grumbly thirty-something strumming absently on a guitar. If you share some gossip, you might coax out a shrill bark of laughter. If you ask about the photos on the wall, you might hear one of the dumbest love stories of all time.You know, the one where Kim Jaehwan becomes Ong Sungwoo's legal guardian, fights off his child's(?) every suitor except that Daniel kid, and somehow still woos an infamous CEO.





	1. two balcony scenes and trainwreck, so basically romeo and juliet

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was just a crack fic in which Hyunbin was not just a puppy but an actual puppy, but then the eliminations came and went—and slowly, this fic began to take another form. It's still a derpfest; don't get me wrong, but that "Major Character Death" tag isn't just loitering for no reason.
> 
> Also, as a heads-up: not all of the characters show up yet in this chapter, sorry sorry!!!! (See if you guys can find the "If It Was You" team!)

** PRESENT DAY, afternoon in a grungy karaoke bar. **

_"So this kid just shows up," is how Kim Jaehwan begins the story, with his feet up on a box of CDs and his eyes resting fondly at an old photo on the wall. A little wallet-sized photo, faded and stained, likely from years of being in an actual wallet. It all but drowns among other bright and gaudily framed pictures of the same several people, engaged in various degrees of insanity. Some of the photos feature a gangly, confused-looking dog. The newer ones don't. _

_Altogether, the photos swallow the whole wall behind the reception desk, sandwiched between the designated vandalism walls for patrons to fill with signatures and crazy photos and the occasional abstract testicle. There's a brand new illustration hiding among old photo booth picture slips, which will have to be attacked with white-out at some point. Later, when the boss isn't telling a story. Right now, the brand new part-timer's job is to listen._

_ "'Ong Seongwoo' was the name," Mr. Kim continues, imitating an arrogant but clearly pre-pubescent voice. He rolls his eyes, as if it could disguise the fond quirk in his lips. "As soon as I open the door. I didn't even get to say a 'hi, yes, it's me, your new adult who's supposed to supply your rice from now on.' I still think: what if he got the wrong door? He would have just announced his full name to total strangers who could have murdered him or something." _

_ "Were your neighbors that…?" Shady? Murderous? Was there a good word for this? _

_ "Nooo! No, no. Actually, the guy next door—Seonghyuk, poor guy—he was the only other sane man in the whole building. We had some crazies, but no one would have hurt him, I don't think. Maybe messed with him a little?" _

_"Just a little?" The tacky background screams awful yearbook photo, yet the boy in the picture manages to pull it off with a cheeky smirk and an even cheekier bowtie. The kid even had the sense to slick his hair upwards, even though he couldn't have been more than ten in the photo. How unfair does puberty get? "I think I would have given him hell."_

_"You, giving someone hell? You can try," Mr. Kim scoffs, with an almost-dirisive pat to his part-timer's head. Then he settles back in his chair and plucks that little photo of the wall with a practiced flick of the wrist._

_"Especially this kid, you would have been no match. I'm telling you, my boy would have out-helled anybody."_

* * *

**ELEVEN YEARS AGO, right outside of the grungy karaoke bar on the grungy street.**

It was cheap bike tire versus chipped asphalt, pebbles, angry snarls of weeds and fallen leaves. Daniel gritted his teeth, lifting out of his seat to pedal harder and better ignore the bumps traveling like shockwaves all through the little bike's frame. He needed to focus on that sharp turn once he reached the bottom of this hill, to not go sailing face first again into that little karaoke bar. The Mr. Kim in charge there was nice enough about the broken glass door, and the scarily tall part-timer wasn't so scary once he started bandaging Daniel's everything, but still. Daniel felt bad. Also Mr. Kim kept laughing-not-laughing as they called up the replacement door people and heard about their pricing, which made the other part-timer pretty frazzled. Never again.

The other buildings blur into grey and green and the beginnings of red. Daniel tipped his head back, so the wind could lift his hair away and let him focus on the turn coming up in three… (he tightened his grip) two… (feet still, right foot down) one… and _swerve!_

"Whoooooooo!!!!!" he howled, careening down another hill and scattering a pile of golden leaves behind him.

Now, there was a point in time here that Kang Daniel and Ong Seongwoo were about only a few meters apart, in a classic fairy tale scene with one staring thoughtfully out an open window and the other impressively unaware. Seongwoo watched with one cheek smushed against the window frame, as the familiar scene of Daniel speeding by. He too counted. Three, two, one, and then his favorite part: in which he got to peel off of the window frame, jump to his feet, and brandish an air-mike to his mouth in time to lip sync the whoooooooo!!!!!

"Something cool happening?" came a voice behind him, freezing the boy in his rocker pose.

The voice in the doorway was ever-patient, ever-adoring, and ever-slightly-out-of-the-loop. The babysitter paused halfway into the room, with an armful of confused puppy and a snack deemed healthy enough for Seongwoo's consumption. Seongwoo straightened with as much dignity as a ten-year-old can manage, when said ten-year-old could not hide the self-satisfaction twitching at his lips.

"Hi Yongjin," the kid said. The Babysitter just smiled, not even going to mention that his question got ignored. The snacks made their way onto Seongwoo's brand new desk, and the puppy was placed carefully onto the wood floor… where he promptly slipped anyways and landed on his side. The small brown rottweiler looked around, like examining his surroundings may somehow get him out of his predicament.

"Hi Hyunbin," the kid said, watching the dog struggle(?).

"Hi Seongwoo," Yongjin replied brightly, unwrapping a granola bar and unloading its contents onto a floral-rimmed plate. Seongwoo didn't have time to ask to ask where that plate came from before it was in front of his face, a respectful distance away, as an offering for afternoon snack.

Obviously, he accepted. Eating dinner today would wait until after Mr. Kim got back from whatever big-city stuff he was doing, so Seongwoo would be in the kitchen making dying noises soon anyways. Even if it was prepackaged stuff pretending to be classy on a fancy plate, chocolate chips were chocolate chips were chocolate chips. He considered telling Yongjin that he was the best mindreader in the world. "I could've just used the wrapper," he said instead.

"Valid," Yongjin agreed. "But even if you're careful, crumbs might fall on the ground, and I don't want Hyunbin eating too much sweet stuff by accident."

Speaking of, the dog has accepted his sideways fate and started experimenting with new means of locomotion. General flailing had gained him a few centimeters in Seongwoo's direction and a ridiculously pleased look on the puppy's face. Seongwoo used his toe to nudge Hyunbin back in the direction he came from, smiling sunnily at the dog's confusion.

"Valid," he echoed. If the dog ate anything wonky, he might get even more clumsy, so Seongwoo attacked his granola bar with a certain care to keep his mouth above the plate. The crumbs can fall there instead.

The Babysitter said no more, just mentally translated Seongwoo's "Valid" into a vague "Thank you." If it were anyone else Seongwoo forgot to thank, Yongjin might have reminded him, but this was fine. For this moment, everything was fine.

A sleepy breeze invited itself in through the window, with fading birdsong and the rare sound of a passing car. Yongjin's summer homework was done and packed and ready for school tomorrow, and all of Seongwoo's supplies were in his bag as well. They'd packed the boy's pencil box yesterday—Yongjin even entrusted him with one of his special purple-ink pens, from a stationary store in the next town over. Such great power came with great responsibility, and Seongwoo… well, Seongwoo was now licking the crumbs off his plate and watching Hyunbin from the corner of his eye. Maybe Yongjin was imagining things, or maybe Seongwoo actually took those warning words to heart. This was the kind of kid to be trusted with purple pens.

In an hour, the Babysitter would start making dinner, even if eating would be much later. A chair was already next to the counter, to boost Seongwoo up and let him peel cabbage leaves like a proper adult. One of these days, Yongjin might have to kick the boy out, to make sure he hung with someone who wasn't Yongjin or the two part-timers downstairs—but for having moved here only a week ago, the boy was adjusting well. Well enough to begin crazy poses by an open window, anyways.

Yongjin knew better than to comment on it now, and he kept his smile to himself. 

* * *

**MEANWHILE, outside an entertainment company in a not-grungy city.**

"Hey," Jaehwan heard above him, and he promptly screamed with a spasm and a near-accident with his coffee. A few drops of mocha made it onto the street—the actual literal street, not just the sidewalk—and he inched back towards the café, eyeing the edge of sidewalk warily. With a deep breath, he smoothed whatever his current expression was into something of a glare. Now he can look up.

"Mr. Jung," he said, perfectly composed and serious (he hoped). "What do you want?"

The man in question simply peered down from the balcony, where he leaned on his arms with one leg swinging childishly between the railings. There stood Jung Sewoon, the kid he used to kick stones and mix home-made bubble baths with. Sewoon, the kid who once wore a yellow flannel on top of red flannel and earnestly declared himself a hot dog. This selfsame kid was now neatly packaged in a grey suit with a shirt that probably costs more than everything on Jaehwan's person, with fitted slacks and immaculate loafers. Even if one said loafer was swinging back and forth between two rails, it still made for a strangely put-together sight. 

It was _weird_.

The new Sewoon then began to speak. "So, I am 'Mr. Jung' now? Are you distancing yourself because I got a nice new job?"

"What in the world are you saying?" Jaehwan wondered aloud.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine," Jaehwan fired back, but he deflated almost immediately. "I mean, you're at work, aren't you? Shouldn't people be formal and stuff?"

"You're not people, is what I'm saying; you're Jaehwan," and for a moment, Jaehwan almost felt signs of life where his heart should be, until: "You're cabbage guy."

_Screw you, Jung Sewoon!_ he wanted to yell. He mouthed it instead, if only because a mom and a stroller were in his peripheral vision.

Sewoon's face didn't change, not really, but there grew a possibility that if he opened his mouth at all, it might resemble a smile. "Mm-hmm," he offered placidly.

Really, screw this guy. Jaehwan turned away with a huff, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and walking off elegantly (definitely not stomping) to find to the train station.

"The station is the other way," Sewoon said. This time, Jaehwan didn't care who saw him as he flipped the guy off and stormed the other direction, shouting a thanks only after he was certainly out of earshot.

About the same amount of time before Sewoon left the balcony, muttering, "Tsundere."

* * *

**MEANWHILE, back at the karaoke bar, as in just outside, as in right on the doorstep between the shrubbery.**

It was too early fog cicadas but too dim now to read outside, so there was no choice but to wander back indoors. He hears the windows creak shut against mosquitoes, and the streetlights sputter on as the TVs and rice cookers get going.

But the part-timer waited in his little spot on the doorstep, with a book face down and forced open to his last page against his leg—which the librarian scolded him for, come to think of it. Something about destructive adolescents and ruining the spines of books. For a moment, he considered simply sitting through that lecture again, but then again… the hydrangea bushes were kind of taking over the walkway anyways… no one would miss a flower or two. With a glance inside to make sure the other part-timer wasn't looking (Yehyun was nowhere in sight; good), he wrestled a handful of faded flowers and pressed them flat between the pages. Only after the book was shut did he realize: oh, wait, maybe using the leaves might have been smarter.

"Sorry," he whispered, patting the few sad, naked stalks he'd created. Destructive adolescent, indeed.

Something brushed by his leg suddenly, and a swift slap revealed a (now-squished) mosquito. With another "Sorry~" the boy took his cue, standing and wiping his hand on the nearby bushes. The door swung open a second later, bells twinkling as he ducked into safety and air condition. 

A rush of muffled music greeted him, maybe a dozen songs going at once behind the closed doors of each karaoke room. Instinctively, he scanned the doors for the little upturned flags that mean some kind of drink order, food order, whatever order just to summon an employee so they have someone to troll. No flags on the left, none on the right. Coast was clear. 

… except for his co-worker, kneeling with an ear pressed against one door. 

"Hello?" he approached carefully. "Yehyunnie?"

Yehyun made a noise that could only be described as a kyaaa~ "This is it," he whispered reverently, with a loopy, starry-eyed smile. "That's exactly how this song is meant to be sung. We are blessed, Junwoo. I love this job."

"Aww, I thought you liked this job because of mee~"

"Hyung, shhh!" Yehyun grabbed Junwoo by the arm, pulling him down with him and personally pressing Junwoo's ear against the door. "There are angels among us."

There was a certain intensity on Yehyun's face that made Junwoo want to laugh aloud—but he was told to be quiet, and quiet he shall be. As the instrumental cut out and left just a vocal line to fill the room, Junwoo had to admit: even through the thick, relatively soundproof door, the voice rang clear and bright. Not with sheer volume, but with some innate purity, like a fresh wash of sun as the rainclouds drift apart. Or something. Junwoo didn't have the words.

Yehyun did. "His voice is concise," he breathed, as soon as the next singer began (admittedly very beautifully as well; how were all these people so good?) "It's refreshing, which brings out the song more. The meaning of the lyrics is meant to be simple and straight from the heart, right?"

Junwoo nodded, before the schoolteacher in Yehyun thought Junwoo needed clarification. The question marks were never rhetorical.

"Right. So ideally, it would be sung in such a way that you don't notice the technique. It's gotta sound good, obviously, but too many tricks would cheapen the actual effect. This guy here," he jabbed at the door, which now emanated a stronger voice, gliding through high notes like it was easy and still resonating with a sorrow that hit Junwoo out of nowhere. (Yehyun once explained it as something to do with phrasing and vibrato and glides, but…?) "He's captured the force of the feelings perfectly. The breath control is insane, man, but do you hear it?"

Nope. Junwoo could only side-eye the door, shaking his head as much as he could with Yehyun's hand still holding him in place. It was getting warm, actually. Maybe the song and the intense lyrics were making Yehyun's blood pump faster thus making his hand warmer. Or maybe it was just Junwoo's face getting warm by itself? The lyrics really were intense.

Yehyun took Junwoo's confusion with a patient smile. "It's not something to hear specifically, I guess. More like you can hear the absence of it. So, inversely, the absence of bad breath control is what we're listening for here."

"Ahh…?"

"As in the fact that he can sustain those notes at all without wobbling is one sign of breath control. He's not gasping between the lines either, so clearly he knows his limits. Stuff like that."

"Ah."

"Yup," and neither of them needed shushing to remain quiet for the climax of the song, all three voices inside perfectly synced up to a Certain Point, then splintering into two guys on melody and one guy on _oohhh yeahhh_ duty. By the time Junwoo's soul was back in his body, Yehyun was clearly gone for good. From where his co-worker's head was (suddenly?) buried in Junwoo's shoulder, he feels a dampness that was probably saline in nature.

"Are you crying?"

"Yes," the other boy choked out.

"Seriously?"

"I've never been more serious in my life."

"What about when you brought Hyunbinnie back?" That was the one time he saw Yehyun mad—furious, even, as he called up various _heartless bastards_ who all refused to take in the dog. May 3rd was still marked on the calendar, as the first day Kim Yehyun was witnessed to swear on work premises.

"That was anger," Yehyun murmured, moving his face around on Junwoo's shirt to wipe the tears or something. "And sadness. I was sangry. Angrad."

"Smad?"

"Smad!" he clapped. Junwoo jolted at the noise. "That's it! Smad!"

"Or what about the time Daniel accidentally broke the door?" he whispered hurriedly, hoping Yehyun might follow along and quiet down before they did the first thing Mr. Kim had told them not to do: bother the customers unless absolutely necessary. It had never ended well before, and even if the people inside this room sounded like angels, that didn't mean anything about how they treat disruptive karaoke bar employees.

"I was just worried, okay?" Yehyun said at normal volume, then paused thoughtfully. Junwoo almost believed he had gotten the hint, but then, "Remember how Seongwoo was arriving literally two days after that? I didn't want him to show up at his new home where the  _door is gone_."

Then the door was gone. Opened inward. Junwoo had zero seconds to react before he was sprawled out across the floor. 184 centimeters of probably dead meat.

Eye contact was exactly as awkward as a real alien encounter probably would be, where no one even knew how to begin. Frankly, it didn't seem like anyone knew where to look. There was one fellow with hair that lookde like it came fresh from a shower, with a rumpled suit that suggested he maybe hadn't showered in days. The man next to him was wearing a suit as well, though it was flung wide open in classic nine-to-five-job-but-now-it's-six style. A bottle of beer had frozen halfway to his mouth but not close enough for any spillage to actually land in his mouth. Junwoo wanted to warn him, honestly. That bottle was angled rather dangerously right about now.

The one who opened the door just looked down, frozen just like the beer bottle, except less danger of spillage… or not, actually, with how his mouth was hanging open, derpifying an otherwise elfishly handsome face. In another life, Junwoo might beg for a signature; right now, though, he'd much rather beg for a life at all. Or crack a joke to release the tension? Maybe just back out quietly and apologize? Should he offer a discount for their next time? Mr. Kim said it was a good idea, since people like to not-spend and this establishment liked "next times"...

"You are all angels," Yehyun said simply, just laying on the ground with his hands folded in his lap and a bright smile upward. Perhaps awkwardness worked like smoke, traveling upwards so that those closest on the ground were bothered least.

Was this the plan? If only to shake the question marks out of his head, Junwoo nodded immediately. Whatever this was, just go with it.  _At least we go down together_ , he figured, which was comforting for maybe half a second before every brain cell started running around chanting  _please have a plan, Yehyun, please have a plan..._

The men in black gave one chuckle, one raised eyebrow, and one stilted "Um… y-you too...?"

Yehyun beamed. "Why, thank you!"

Junwoo noticed the crushed remains of two corn chips under the snack table and wondered if this was what the librarian meant by foreshadowing.


	2. on the first day of classes, my classmate gave to me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seongwoo goes to school, meets an Euigeon (" Daniel"), thoroughly annoys said Euigeon ("Please, just Daniel, please..."), and gets them both in trouble. Not exactly in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry sorry, I still haven't introduced everyone yet, but this got long, and I wanted to pace this somewhat not-terribly. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> (Sorry also for any grammatical/spelling errors below! Do let me know if you find any, and I'll fix them ASAP. As always, any tips on characterization or writing in general would be much appreciated!!)

_ In order to comprehend Ong Seongwoo, it is apparently necessary to see more photos than just the ones all over the wall. Mr. Kim is now out of sight (under the reception desk) but not at all out of mind (muttering a curse or four). All for the sake of some other elusive photo album. _

_ The part-timer takes this opportunity to scan the papers scattered on the table. Mostly bills. None of the deadlines seem to have passed, but there are a couple by the next of this week. Somewhere down the hall, a small ding sounds. A quick glance confirms exactly what the ding meant: the little  _ Service Here! _ flag was up for one door. That would require attention soon enough. _

_ "Couldn't we do this later? I'm still around for next week." _

_ "Let them wait a moment," says Jaehwan. So he heard the ding as well. _

_ "Aren't they kind of your patrons?" An annoyed grunt is the only response. The part-timer sighs. Then, with emphasis: "Aren't we kind of supposed to give them a good experience?" _

_ "Do not underestimate my ability to ignore things that don't matter." _

_ "Like these?" The part-timer gestures down at the bills, until he remembers that the boss was under the table. Line of vision is a thing that exists. _

_ At this time, Jaehwan hisses as he bumps a knee against some irrelevant box. That photo album had to be in here somewhere. "Hm? Like what?" _

_ No response. By the time Jaehwan peeked out in suspicion, the reception area is empty. From down the hall, a door clinks open with a "Yes? How may help you?" _

_ There's something rude and hypocritical being muttered under Jaehwan's breath, but whatever it is,  _ important _is what it's not—because behind that box he bumped is a little blue hardcover. There's a lot of dust, which his nose is kindly reminding of, but Jaehwan manages not to sneeze from the time he begins wrestling the book out of its cranny to when it's splayed on top of the bills (oh right, bills) on his desk. A random page in the middle offers_ SEONGWOO'S FIRST YEAR _in sloppy ballpoint, headlining a shot of Seongwoo posing extravagantly by some shrub. The next picture is much the same, and the next, and the next. Until a pink-haired kid starts featuring, and then it's all downhill from there._

* * *

**ELEVEN YEARS AGO, again, but in a classroom**

The first time Seongwoo and Daniel met eyes, it got them both into trouble. It happened like this: 

> 1\. Kang Daniel cut up his eraser. A brand new eraser purchased specifically for the new school year. This was the first ten minutes.
> 
> 2\. Kang Daniel had a target in mind: a certain Lee Gunhee who seemed to be minding his own business for all intents and purposes. He kind of wanted to hit the transfer student instead, but Hwanwoong from the next desk back insisted that Gunhee's reaction would be funny, so Gunhee it was. Besides, as he thought about it again, hitting the new kid for no reason was kind of like the bullying they talked about in an assembly last year.
> 
> 3\. Kang Daniel forgot that any man's aim was only as good as his luck and composure. His composure was wholly nonexistent, forgotten in favor of giggling like an idiot. His luck, largely thanks to that lack of composure, had sailed from Survivable straight into Abysmal.
> 
> 4\. Ong Seongwoo heard the giggling, felt appropriately creeped out, and angled his head to sneak a peak at what the heck was going on.
> 
> 5\. The new tilt of Ong Seongwoo's head, the careless glee of Kang Daniel, and all known laws of aviation came together in a grand mix, culminating in the flight of an eraser chunk into Seongwoo's inquiring mouth.

They met eyes for only a fraction of a second before Seongwoo, ever-dignified, was trying to eject the eraser with flailing hands and not-even-exaggerated loud coughing. Daniel launched immediately into apologies, as well-brought-up boys are wont to do, both arms outstretched in an attempt to somehow help the coughing transfer student.

Besides the aforementioned luck and composure, he now forgot one additional thing: the fact that they were currently in history class.

"Gentlemen?" Mr. Hwang asked airily, not pausing to look back or to write any slower on the board. If anyone had the curiosity to see what was going on, it was quelled by the survival instinct of students whose teacher wrote and erased far too quickly. "Is everything alright?"

These words flew way over both boys' heads into the widened eyes of Noh Hwanwoong, who snatched Daniel back by the scruff of his neck and slapped a hand over the boy's mouth. Desperate Dan-noises devolved into confused Dan-noises, then into silence as Hwanwoong laughed awkwardly and started speaking over Seongwoo's continued coughs.

"Everything's alright, Mr. Hwang! Don't worry!" Then, with a shove to Daniel's back (as if to say _there, see, I had your back_ ), he too ducked back into the hard labor of note-taking. In his brief moment of being a decently loyal friend, he had missed the beginning of World War II.

"I'll believe it when our transfer student no longer sounds like he's about to die of pneumonia," the teacher replied smoothly, "A disease which, incidentally, took an awful many lives until the development of penicillin, also in this era. We will go into further detail later this year. Now, to preview our next unit..."

"I'm really sorry," Daniel repeated as soon as Hwanwoong's hand left his mouth. At normal speaking volume. In the dead middle of class. Behind him, Hwanwoong succumbed to the gravitational pull between his forehead and his desk.

Seongwoo simply looked at him, then finally coughed up the eraser onto his hand. Daniel held his breath for a moment, wondering just how this near-stranger would kill him. A suspenseful few seconds passed, with Mr. Hwang now sneaking in snide remarks about innovative weaponry and friendly fire. With tiny hopes, Daniel smiled, though his eyes still searched the other boy's face for any reaction, opinion, thoughts, soul.

Blankness.

Seongwoo remained perfectly blank until he dropped the (saliva-coated, very sad-looking) chunk of eraser onto Daniel's desk—no, onto his fresh notebook. Saliva. Paper. Already, the dark stain began travelling outward onto the lined pages. That was definitely going to wrinkle.

… but by the time that thought sparked in Daniel's head, the other boy had turned away and resumed dutiful note-taking, and Hwanwoong was snickering behind him. Daniel was tempted to shake the boy for an explanation, but Mr. Hwang had just ended World War II on the board and begun outlining Korea's recovery… and Daniel's happy notes stared up at him, with not a single word past the 1920s. With a whimper, he nudged the offending eraser aside with a pencil tip and began scribbling down what he could, carefully avoiding the wet spot on his page. 

> 6\. Kang Daniel failed to realize that he was going to be well and thoroughly whipped.

* * *

**A BIT LATER**

The plan was, of course, to apologize again in a "proper setting, Daniel, seriously; why did you _talk_ in the middle of  _class_? At room-temperature… volume? You know what I mean!" Hwanwoong had turned right round on him the second class let out for lunch, slamming Daniel with enough common sense to make the taller boy feel idiotic for years. What Hwanwoong lacked in height, he made up for in basic functionality as a human being. Daniel sometimes wondered if he himself had traded something essential for broader shoulders and the ability to reach a higher shelf.

Then and again, even Hwanwoong was not infallible, if his current timing was any indication. As Daniel took the good advice and turned towards Seongwoo's seat, he found it absolutely empty. A hurried glance to the door caught one familiar figure moving away, and he all but shoved Hwanwoong's desk into the other boy's ribs in an effort to get up quickly. He ran, chasing his target, fleeing his freshly injured friend.

Adrenaline gifted him balance up until the sharp turn into the hallway, where he nearly collided with someone and slammed whoever into the wall. Only quick reflexes (i.e. a hand thrown out by the poor person's head) saved them from full-body impact—but more importantly, Seongwoo was in sight! The dark head was bouncing down the stairs in a suspicious motion that implied skipping. Daniel did not know what to think of adversaries who skipped merrily down the stairs.

"Sorry," he tossed over his shoulder, then gave chase.

One nearly-smooshed Gunhee nodded mutely, clutching his nearly-flattened ham sandwich and staring slackjawed at whatever the heck just happened.

* * *

**ANOTHER BIT LATER, by a vending machine**

"Who even are you?" the boy asked, ripping the straw wrapper, extracting the straw, and stabbing it dead center into the milk bottle. All in one seamless motion. With nothing but his teeth. Impressive…

Seriously, if Daniel had known ahead of time that he'd offended someone this cool, he would've probably come with more of a plan. Said someone was now leaning up against the wall, feet crossed and one thumb hooked in his pants pocket. Last time Daniel tried that, the usually tolerant and reliable Gunmin had directly spluttered into laughter, which meant Hwanwoong was close behind in the _sorry it's not you it's pffffffft_. Yet here was this new kid, completely ignorant of his faux pas and just sipping his banana milk with an eyebrow arched in… challenge? In curiosity? In judgment?

Daniel sincerely hoped it wasn't judgment. Someone who could pull off the thumb-in-pocket, lean-on-wall pose without looking stupid was not someone he wanted to mess with.

"Okay, silence," the boy said suddenly. Oh, right. Daniel had a question to answer. What are you doing, Daniel... "Nice to meet you. I'm Ong Seongwoo."

"D-Daniel," he sputters back.

"Da Daniel." Seongwoo nods approvingly, lips quirking around the straw. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ong Seongwoo."

So much for _the name's Kang, Kang Daniel_. He should really do this properly, but… wait. "Ong?"

"Wow~ you're an Ong too? Nice to meet you. I'm Ong Seongwoo."

"That's your actual name?" Daniel breathed. "That's so cool…"

"I am indeed an Ong," the boy said grandly. "The one and only."

"It's like a clan name or something… like Uchiha or Hyuuga except Korean! You could totally be the last survivor of a feared and respected ninja clan, like, with a bloodline technique and everything! And now you walking the earth by your majestic lonesome with an eccentric mentor who..."

At some point, Seongwoo bit a line into the little straw, and now he looked down almost confused at the plastic he just crushed. Daniel drifted into quiet. This wasn't quite the mutual geeking out he was safe to continue geeking with. This, he had no idea how to interpret. Did he say something wrong? Did Seongwoo not like ninjas? But, more importantly, "Are you okay?"

"Nope," said Seongwoo. "I'm fabulous. So what did you mean to say again?"

"Huh?"

"You said you had something to say to me. If it's to demand my lunch money, I'm terribly sorry, but I pack instead of buy."

Daniel backed off, eyes wide with horror. "No! No, why would I take your—that's so mean!"

"You shot an eraser at me," Seongwoo pointed out.

"I was trying to hit Gunhee!" His response only earned him an unconvinced stare. Oh. Right. That didn't make it any less mean. "Um…"

"What?"

Deep breaths. In, out. "Look, man... I'm really, really sorry."

Seongwoo blinked. "Oh?"

"Like, I meant to hit Gunhee, because we're already friends, so he's okay with this stuff… I think?" At Seongwoo's unchanging face, Daniel felt terribly small despite probably out-massing the other boy by quite some kilograms. "I'll check with him later," he added hastily. He meant it. "But anyways, I didn't mean to hit you, so I'm really sorry. I thought you were gonna die. It's good that you didn't, though."

Seongwoo seemed to think this over. "Well, of course. If I died, you would have been in even more trouble, so naturally~"

"No but it'd be _sad!!_ " Daniel said urgently. "I don't want you to die."

"Mm-hmm, so you won't go to jail."

Daniel stomped. Didn't even care if it was childish or if anyone cared to laugh at him; there was a point to make, gosh darn it. "If you died, I'd happily go to jail. After the funeral, I mean. I should not kill people, and you shouldn't die."

"What if I'm a bad person, though?" That same face, that same teasing drawl. This should be just a hypothetical, but just in case...

"I don't know," Daniel admitted. He liked seeing the bad guys get beat up in manhwa and on TV, but then there were those bloody news articles that had Jisung quickly shutting the newspaper as Daniel walked by (but not quickly enough). It was cooler to have the power of convincing the villains to become good anyways. "I mean, bad people can change and help the good guys if you do things properly. Worth a second chance, right?"

"Very well," and for a moment, Daniel almost sighed in relief, until he noticed a fresh smirk on the Seongwoo's face. He could almost _see_ something wicked clicking back into place. "I'll give you a second chance. Use it well, whatever your name is."

"I really am Daniel. I guess that sounds odd, but I promise I'm not lying," but then and again… "Teeeechnically it's Euigeon. Kang Euigeon, if you wanna get all proper, but I go by Daniel. I went abroad for a—"

"Kang 'Euigeon' Daniel?" said Seongwoo, considering the name.

Daniel winced. "Yeah. Technically."

"Well, Kang 'Euigeon' Daniel, it's good we got this squared away. I forgive you, Kang 'Euigeon' Daniel, in case you were wondering."

"Please. Just Daniel, please."

Seongwoo simply smiled around his straw. "Nice to meet you, Kang 'Euigeon' Daniel. I'm Ong Seongwoo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up soon...
> 
> Jaehwan's neighbor is an okay wingman, Sewoon tries to remember his new co-workers' names, and Yongguk builds a fanbase.

**Author's Note:**

> So yes. That. Sorry.
> 
> Do let me know, please, how I could improve the characterization in here. It's not meant to be very realistic anyways, but still. If you got tomatoes, throw them!
> 
> Also please suggest me tags. I don't think I have any idea how this works, and I'll admit it now before Ongniel confess. There we go. I've beaten the kings in at least one thing.
> 
> ... have a lovely day!


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